Chapter 13: Six Years of Coffee

Fiona opened the door on Pinckney Street with flour on her hands and Theo on her hip.

"Immy! You didn't text."

"I need ten minutes," I said. "Without him."

She looked at the envelope in my hand.

Her smile stayed exactly where it was.

"Of course. He's due for a nap anyway."

She took him upstairs, and I stood in the kitchen where I had eaten pasta beside a high chair not long before.

I put the envelope on the table, face up, with my name toward her chair.

When she came back down, she saw it from the doorway.

She stopped.

"Where did you get that?"

"You tell me."

"Desmond," she said. "He went through my things."

"He found it in your jewelry box, under the velvet liner. He kept it in the office safe for three years."

"He had no right."

"Fiona. It has my name on it, in Dad's writing."

She pulled out the chair and sat down very slowly.

"I don't know what's in it," she said. "I never opened it."

"I asked you at this table if he left me anything. You said you went through every drawer."

"I did. It wasn't in a drawer when I found it."

"Where was it?"

"In his top drawer." Her voice had gone thin and quick. "I only took it out so I could pack his things. I forgot I had it."

"For three years."

"I was grieving, Immy."

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